


I'd Rather Be Someone Else (BMCAWT Week #1)

by HeereandThere



Series: BMCA Writing Team Works! [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Difficult Family Situation, Overaggressive Brother, Rich Gets Shocked, Seriously Kiddos Be Careful, alcoholic father, lowkey suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 18:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15712545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeereandThere/pseuds/HeereandThere
Summary: ((PROMPT: Beginnings))A quantum computer from Japan that's supposed to change your life. Seems unrealistic.But Rich is willing to take the chance.





	I'd Rather Be Someone Else (BMCAWT Week #1)

Rich sat on his bedroom floor, his nervous habit of rocking back and forth shining through. He stared precariously down at the gray, oblong pill resting almost innocently in his right hand; his left traced along the circuitry patterns that ran along its surface, advertising its distinction from other medicines similar in appearance. He had been desperate enough for this miracle cure for being him to purloin the payment from his own flesh and blood, but there was something inside him that prevented him from throwing back the squip.

The main issue seemed to be that it all seemed like a strange, albeit elaborate, scam. A supercomputer that implants in your brain and tells you what to do, how to think, who to be? Get real. It sounded like something ripped directly from a poorly written science fiction novel; the squip belonged inside of a film set 20 years in the future, not inside of Rich's pitiful excuse for a mind.

Yet, the pill looked real enough; the neon blue paths carved into the dull gray shade of its miniscule form were far more than a simple paint job, and it would have taken a hefty amount of time and skill to craft the item. However, $400 was a pretty penny and the efforts may have actually been worth it. There was no telling whether it was real or fake.

Well, there was one option, but it was incredibly risky. The two extremes that came with the numerous possibilities were a whole new life or... death.

Then again, Rich wasn't sure if he could continue like this. No friends, a father that was either not home or passed-out drunk, a brother who seemed to wish he had never been born, and an entire world full of people that seemed to ignore his existence like the "Dear Evan Hansen" fandom ignores Connor's death. Something had to give, and soon.

Rich wrapped his fingers around the squip, balling his hand into a fist and digging his nails into the palm of his hand. He contemplated his decision for but a moment more before realizing he didn't really have a choice, not when Martin and his father would notice the missing money, not when people shoved him aside in the hallway like he wasn't even there, not when he was still the sophomore loser, Richard Elias Goranski.

He roughly took the Mountain Dew sitting beside him and unscrewed the lid as he prepared to follow the simple instructions provided by the stockboy that had sold the squip to him. He threw the pill into his mouth, not even bothering to take precautions in order to avoid choking on it, and chased it with a full of the soda. He braced himself, getting ready for some kind of instantaneous effect, but was met with nothing but an odd, minty aftertaste.

"You can't be serious!" Rich exclaimed, angry and disappointed. He couldn't believe he was actually stupid enough to fall for such an obvious scheme, but there was a reason he had bought into the whole thing in the first place: his inner voice was practically useless and was often wrong, always leading him in the incorrect direction and helping him to make only the worst decisions. With his luck, it would always be wired to do just that.

Frustrated with himself and the jerk who had ripped him off, Rich tossed the Mountain Dew bottle at the wall and let out an agonized cry without realizing that the lid had yet to be replaced. A dull thud resounded throughout the room as the container made contact and the contents hit the walls and spilled all over the floor. Rich hissed through his teeth the moment the Mountain Dew left his hand and could only shout desperately as the mistake was made, as was the mess. He was lucky he was the only one in the house because he knew for a fact that everybody else would fail to find the situation humorous.

Rich rose to his feet in an instant and sprinted down the stairs and into the kitchen for the paper towels, his socks skidding on the linoleum and almost causing his feet to slide out from underneath him. He took the entire roll of towels with him just to be safe, but only doused a few in water when he made his pit stop in the upstairs bathroom. Hurriedly reassessing the damage, he sprawled a great quantity of soaking sheets on the carpeted floor to prevent too much of the soda from soaking in. He went to work on the walls in a hurry, muttering to himself under his breath. "Fucking idiot..." Nothing new.

Upon believing he had done all he could, Rich angrily balled up the towels in his hands and trashed them.

Well, "dropped" was a more appropriate description, since his focus quickly shifted to a brief, yet sharp and painful, shock coursing through his brain. "Jesus! The hell?!"

**_ Calibration in process. Please excuse some mild discomfort. _ **

 

Rich frantically glanced around his room for evidence of an intruder. There was no way the voice was a figment of his imagination; it was all too real, electronic and directly inside his ear. However, he was still the only person present.

He ceased caring about the absence of infiltrators as he wound up involuntarily doubling over and making a pitifully pained noise. There was what felt like an immense amount of pressure on his brain that caused considerable discomfort, and all he wanted was for it to stop.

**_ Calibration complete. Access procedure initiated. _ **

 

Rich had no clue what "access procedure initiated" meant, but he was relieved to find that the aching dissipated nearly instantly. In that moment, he knew someone was looking out for him.

**_ Discomfort level may increase. _ **

 

Okay, maybe not.

The dull soreness transformed into agonizing torment, pain so torturous he felt as though it was going to kill him. He couldn't call for help because there was no one there to help him, so he settled for screaming and howling and praying the neighbors would overhear him.

**_ Accessing neural memory. _ **

 

He didn't remember crashing to the ground, but he was on his back and facing the ceiling. His body convulsed, no control to be had in his movements.

**_ Accessing muscle memory. _ **

 

His throat was raw from shouting, but it wasn't like he could do it, anymore if he wanted to, anyway; he was frozen, unable to do anything but let nature take its course. That is, if it WAS nature, which it certainly didn't feel like.

Our of the corner of his eye, something seemingly holographic was building itself pixel-by-pixel, almost reaching completion.

Oh, God, he was losing his mind.

**_ Access procedure complete. _ **

 

Rich breathed a shaky sigh of relief and sprawled out on the floor exasperatedly, feeling the horrible tension leave his body. His eyes widened however when, upon tilting his head slightly back, he met eyes with an oddly familiar face hovering above him.

**_Rich Goranski. Welcome to your super quantum unit intel processor._**  
**_Your S.Q.U.I.P._**

 

Dumbfounded, Rich slowly rose to his knees and stared at the man before him. His first thoughts were on making a good first impression, on making this perfect stranger like him.

"What. The. Fuck," were the words that his mind settled on.

**_ You're impressed. _ **

 

"I- Well- Well, no shit, Sherlock!" Rich leapt to his feet, a new energy coursing through his veins. "Keanu Reeves is standing in the middle of my bedroom!"

A slight shock tickled at his back, but it felt like barely more than static electricity. Still, he winced instinctively and straightened his posture. The squip explained before he asked it to.

**_ Spinal stimulation. I understand that this is your first experience with a squip, so I gave you a warning shock. Future offenses will warrant less pleasant stimuli. _ **

 

"But why-"

**_ Your posture is atrocious and the sensation doubled as a reprimand for speaking to yourself. I'm part of your mind. Think to me instead of talking or else your image will suffer the consequences. _ **

 

"C-" Rich caught himself, not wishing to know what the "less pleasant" version of spinal stimulation was like.

_Consequences?_

 

_** People tend to look down on someone having an audible conversation with themselves. ** _

 

_Oh. That makes sense._

 

**_ Indeed. _ **

 

Silence.

**_ I've noticed from this situation and previous data collected that you're uncomfortable in social confrontations, which could severely hinder my ability to assist you. Perhaps a more familiar face would make you feel better? My research indicates that you would feel better taking instructions from Evil Kermit, Brienne of Tarth, Hatsune Miku, your mothe- _ **

 

"Brienne's okay!" Rich's voice cracked in fear. There were some demons he just didn't want to face that day.

_Zap!_

 

"Ow! Hey!" That one actually hurt, and Rich mentally kicked himself for forgetting the only rule thus far.

**_ Think. And be wary of how your emotions affect you. _ **

 

With the last word, the squip went to work reconstructing itself in the same manner it had come into this world, falling apart and being rebuilt, coming back as the tall, armored woman. Everything physical had been altered, but it retained the same emotionally distant demeanor.

**_ First, we'll need to fix your voice. It's grating. _ **

 

Even if Rich wasn't already prepared to sell his soul to this... person, his voice was one of his worst insecurities. He would do anything to be rid of his lisp.

**_ Try stating your name. _ **

 

He hadn't felt anything, but it was better to just obey.

_Rich-_

 

**_ Aloud, Richard. _ **

 

"Oh! Right! Um..." He cleared his throat and spoke as clearly as he could. "Richard Elias Goranski." He gasped the tiniest gasp; the sharp "th's" of his "s's" had smoothed out and he just sounded... normal. This was real. This was happening.

**_If you remain this enthusiastic with all of our endeavors, we're on a very productive path. That said, there's a sufficient amount of tasks we have yet to complete: fixing your hair, overhauling your wardrobe, editing your vocabulary, permanently fixing your posture, etcetera. I'm going to ask you this once and only once: Are you prepared to take on the_**  
**_responsibility of following my every order, without question, to become a better version of yourself?_**

 

Rich didn't even need to think twice.

_Abso-freaking-lutely._


End file.
